


Glances

by Raufnir



Series: Gladnis 100 Prompt Drabbles [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (background low-key promptis), Gladnis, Gladnis100, M/M, brotherhood era, gladio being a bit cocky because let's face it Ignis is intimidating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Brotherhood Scenario: Shy Ignis can’t keep his eyes off his best friend Gladio. The young Shield takes notice.





	Glances

 

It started out innocently enough.

A glance across the library table; an eighteen year old Gladio looking down at the figure sitting across from him, and finding those eyes on him already, green and intense.

That was only the beginning.

A passing, stolen glance through a window.

Sidelong glances in corridors.

Lingering looks here and there.

Extra maths lessons for Gladio. Book recommendations for Ignis.

And gradually, _gradually_ , Gladio came to realise that every time he looked at Ignis, Ignis was already looking at him.

Gaming sessions at Noct’s would reveal shy green eyes from the kitchen doorway.

Council sessions would reveal an idle pen for a heartbeat, and a subsequent blush and furious scribbling the next.

As the lines of his tattoo began to fill out, spreading regularly like watercolour on wet paper, Ignis would notice, and oftentimes remark on its progress.

For a year, Gladio quietly began to observe Ignis Scientia, observing… _him_.

Interesting.

Another sparring session.

Grappling hands began to linger.

Cheeks began to redden.

Ignis tapped out, straightened, turned away, more breathless than their match could account for. “I…” he croaked, reaching reflexively to push non-existent glasses back up his nose. He always trained without them, for safety. Ignis Scientia should have remembered that.

But Ignis Scientia’s brain was otherwise occupied in that moment.

And Gladio _knew_ it.

Gladio, nineteen years old and six foot four of rippling muscle and half-finished tattoo, tossed him a casual smirk, lopsided and full of teeth, and went to pick up his water bottle. If half of it went across his face and down his shirt, he didn’t exactly try to stop it.

Turning back, he caught Ignis’ green eyes lingering on him before his gaze dropped to the floor like a stone.

“Up for it?” Gladio asked.

“What?” Ignis asked, blinking stupidly, voice clipped and short.

“Another round, of course,” Gladio grinned.

Ignis’ shoulders hunched and then he visibly forced himself to relax. “I… No, that’s alright, thank you.”

“Thought your stamina was better than that,” Gladio quipped, tossing a small towel around his neck to dab up the sweat. Stretching it between his hands, he felt his biceps bulge, and traced Ignis’ reaction in the way his cheeks pinked delicately again. Gods, if he wasn’t _living_ to provoke these reactions in Ignis these days, Gladiolus Amicitia was a Six-damned liar.

 “I assure you my stamina is perfectly adequate, Gladiolus,” he blushed. “I just… have other things I must attend to.”

“Sure,” Gladio smiled, trying not to sound like a total asshole.

He followed Ignis out into the showers without another word. It was only as he ripped his vest up over his head and turned to find Ignis quietly doing the same thing, if somewhat more demurely, that _he_ really noticed _Ignis_. He’d allowed his ego to be fed, _sustained_ if he was honest, on these lustful half-glances from the other, but what of the man they came from? Didn’t he deserve better than that?

Gladio flushed then himself, wondering just when exactly Ignis Scientia had gone from lanky, spotty, gangly nerd to… well… _this_. A lean expanse of pale back, adorned with a couple of freckles, and not an ounce of fat to be seen was revealed as he stripped his workout clothes off, and Gladio swallowed hard at the sight of him.

Ignis turned and caught him, and gave him an entirely different kind of stare, flat and hard, and lacking any warmth, and Gladio turned away. It was his turn for pink cheeks and a racing heart as Ignis headed for the showers.

His thoughts remained on Ignis during his shower. He was eighteen, had a college level degree already, and had devoted every minute of his days to Noctis. Gods, the man was a saint. Gladio never felt more inadequate than he did around Ignis Scientia. Was that why he’d never made a move? Or was he afraid. Afraid he wasn’t enough, wouldn’t measure up to the vast achievements of Ignis Scientia? Was his macho attitude an attempt to over-compensate just a little?

When Ignis returned from his perfunctory wash, Gladio was still conditioning his lengthening hair in the shower, and he missed Ignis’ departure from the barracks.

On discovering this, he cursed and whipped his phone out, bashing out a hasty text. ‘ _See you at Noct’s tonight?_ ’

Ignis did not reply, but Gladio wasn’t fussed. Ignis rarely replied to things that were not code-amber important.

When Gladio arrived at the prince’s apartment, he pushed the door open and drew up short, clamping a hand over his mouth to hide the gasp of surprise. Prompto and Noctis were locked together on the couch, kissing with the messy passion of two inexperienced sixteen year olds. The sight of it went straight to Gladio’s cock, but he at least had the presence of mind to slam the front door behind him and spend an inordinately long time kicking his shoes off and scuffing about in the hallway before entering the living room.

Their controllers were back in their hands by the time he emerged into the living room, but he couldn’t resist the urge to torment them. Nor did he miss the crimson adorning the top of Prompto’s ears. “You lot been left unsupervised?” he asked. “Where’s _mom_?”

“Ignis?” Noct asked, breathless and flushed, the games controller strategically placed in his crotch. “Kitchen.”

“Gladiolus, I resent that,” came Ignis’ sharp voice from the other room. “And you know I do.”

Gladio stepped into the small galley kitchen and had to fight to keep his expression neutral. “I’m just teasing,” he began, but the words had died in his throat when he’d caught sight of him. Ignis had his hair down, styled softly as he had done for the past couple of years, and he looked gentle and sweet in a way Gladio rarely saw him. He even had his glasses off. “Where are your specs?” he asked finally, leaning on the doorframe and watching Ignis’ eyes drift up, involuntarily as a helium balloon, to his biceps.

“I… I left them in the car. I’ve not had a moment to fetch them.”

Gladio frowned, casting his eyes about the kitchen. “Princess trash the place again I take it?”

“Unfortunately it was not left in the most desirable condition for preparing food…”

“You know,” Gladio said, “You can ask for some help…”

“Noctis has enough on his plate already,” Ignis began, turning his attention back to the stir fry that was turning a gorgeous golden brown in the wok in front of him.

“Wasn’t talking about Princess,” Gladio said, stepping inside the kitchen and crossing to him. He came to a halt half a pace too close for everyday interaction.

Ignis, of course, did _not_ fail to notice.

The wooden spatula he was using to agitate the soy-enhanced vegetables slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

“Clumsy,” he hissed, stooping hastily to pick it up, turning the gas down and washing the implement in the space of about five seconds. “Gladio, please, you’re really not being helpful at all.”

Gladio did not step back. “Iggy,” he said, his voice low and rasping.

“Gladiolus, for the love of –”

Gladio leaned down and put his hand on Ignis’ hip, tugging his body close and pressing his nose against Ignis’ cheek. Ignis smelled incredible, and Gladio felt the echo of it thrum through his whole body.

Ignis went rigid.

“Gladio?” he hissed.

“Yeah?”

“Gladio?” he repeated, sounding as though he hardly dared believe what was happening.

“You want me to stop?”

Ignis didn’t reply. His eyes closed and his fingers clenched around the handle of the spatula. “Gladio, I… this… I can’t… I…”

Gladio stepped back instantly. “I’m sorry. I thought… Shit… Iggy, I’m sorry.” His cheeks flushed crimson and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. Ignis didn’t want this? Had he misinterpreted all those looks, all those glances?

“Don’t go,” Ignis rasped, standing stock still in front of the hob, eyes latched onto the food. “I… please…”

“Ig,” Gladio murmured, forcing himself to relax. He reached his fingers up to Ignis’ chin and tilted his face up a little. “Ig, tell me now if you don’t want me to kiss you, and I swear I’ll never mention it ever again, but if you don’t tell me, I swear I’ll –”

“Kiss me,” Ignis panted. “Please.”

So Gladio kissed him.

The glances were different after that.

Where once Ignis had been bashful, now heat warmed the looks he cast at Gladio in council meetings. Where before Ignis had been shy and halting, now when their looks met in private, he was confident, forward, even demanding.

And Gladio met every demand with action and word, love and caress.

“I love you,” Gladio gasped one evening as Ignis ground his hips into Gladio’s on the couch, desperate for friction to lead to release. “Gods, you’re so beautiful. I love you.”

Ignis’ response was to yank Gladio’s head back with a fistful of his hair and bring his teeth into the thick column of muscle.

If Gladio turned up to training the next day with an extra bruise already, Ignis only cast him a look before sinking into a ready stance, dual daggers flashing in the soft light of the training room.

“Ready?” Gladio asked.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Ignis retorted, eyes narrowing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gladio said, launching his attack with a broad, mischievous grin.


End file.
